


In a Manner of Speaking

by mocinno



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth doesn’t actually appear, Byleth is missing and Claude is sad, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Wingman Hilda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mocinno/pseuds/mocinno
Summary: Hilda and Claude talk about their former professor over tea.





	In a Manner of Speaking

"Holst," Hilda hummed as she set her hands on her brother's chair, "would you mind if I stole Claude for a spot of tea?"

He nodded. "We're about done here anyway, aren't we, Duke Riegan?"

Claude looked taken aback, but he hid it with a calm smile. "Yes. Thank you for your time, Lord Holst." They bowed politely to each other, and Claude followed Hilda into her personal dining room. He made a passing comment that only a noble would have a personal dining room, a statement she took in stride. 

He sat at the table as she poured them each tea, a blend of Leicester Cortania she'd spent a pretty penny on for the purpose of these sort of visits. With a ring of a bell, a servant came dashing in carrying a tall tree of tea biscuits and cookies, set a vase of forget-me-nots on the table, and left as quickly as they came.

"This was an unexpected invite." Claude smiled politely at her. "Now, what is it you wanted to discuss?" He leaned forward on his elbows with a glint in his eyes.

She gave him an innocent, doe-eyed look and bit into a cookie. "The five-year mark is coming up. Since we graduated."

"Ah, you're right."

"I miss the professor." Her words were breezy, though they both knew the weight behind them. "She was so nice."

They sat in silence for a moment, enjoying the atmosphere and their rose-tinted memories of Byleth. 

"I had a crush on her, you know." He took a hearty sip of his tea.

Hilda tilted her head with a bemused smile. Good. They both knew what she wanted. "Oh? You're finally telling me what I've known since day one?"

He scoffed, disappointed, like this was his big reveal party. "It was that obvious, huh?"

"Well, I think it's understandable you tried to ignore it at the monastery. We were still students, after all. That would've been weird." She fiddled with an earring as she spoke. "With that behind us, though, are you saying you still like her?"

He nodded and sighed. "That just makes it worse, though." Her eyes widened behind her teacup. "This wait."

”I don’t think it’s that bad. She’ll come back eventually.”

Claude ran a hand through his hair. "What if she's dead?"

She coughed suddenly, hacking into her cup for a solid minute before she replied. "E-excuse me!?"

"What if Teach _died_, Hilda?" He pursed his lips. Clearly, this was something he'd given _thought_ to. "I know, I know. I'm the one who was the most optimistic about her. But if I'm being honest, I can't see any possible way she survived." There was a shake to his voice, almost like he was convincing himself more than Hilda, but it vanished a few words in.

He held out his hand and began counting off. "One, we've heard _zero_ news about any distinct green-haired warriors recently, even though I've sent out countless messengers. Two, if Teach is alive, I would bet my life she'd go looking for us straight away. But she hasn't. Three, if she was, say, kidnapped, I can't imagine her not trying to escape. And you know how strong she was--"

She stood and slammed her hand against the table, making the china, cookies, and Claude all jump. "Don't talk like that!" Even she was surprised. What was she doing? It wasn't like her to have such an emotional outburst, and the shock on Claude's face said so. Her words spilled out, like a bucket overfilled. "Don't talk like she's already gone.”

From the dining hall, she could hear Holst's concerned voice. "Hilda, is everything okay?"

"Just peachy, dear brother!" She chirped back, and she turned to Claude again. "_Please._"

He put his hands up in innocence. "H-hey. I'm just trying to point out a possibility."

"No, you're trying to bury yourself in denial!" She felt a lump in her throat and forced it down. "You think you're being _realistic_, but you're just afraid. You’re a coward!” The words were bouncing off, like arrows on a silver shield. If she wanted to cast away Claude’s doubt, she needed _weaponry_. She scrutinized his face for a moment. “You love her.” He flinched at the four letter word, like he’d been shot. “You love her and you’re afraid to love the living so you hide behind her death!”

Love.

Hilda didn’t know, actually, whether Claude loved Byleth. No one could really know but him. She had, however, seen the way he’d acted around the professor, witnessed the casual flirting and subtle winks and nudges, saw the way his heart shattered when she went missing, watched as he grew colder and colder without her. 

Being one of the few Golden Deer Claude regularly visited did have its perks, even if the visits were largely for Holst. Hilda knew better than any of their former classmates how badly Claude missed their teacher, and how dependent he was on her return.

Hilda sat again and daintily sipped her tea. "Claude, _sweetheart_. I've known you for nearly five years. You can't hide behind your fake smiles with me."

His knuckles were white around his teacup.

Claude said nothing, not verbally, but his body language was shouting discomfort, fear, the urge to _run._ He looked like a caged animal locked in with a dragon.

Hilda had mentioned Byleth with the intention of clearing up Claude's doubts about her survival, but she didn't realize how deep his pain ran. She hadn't meant to expose such a fresh wound. Perhaps she’d gone too far.

"You got me, Hilda." He smiled. Fake, flaky, like a stiff breeze would peel it away. "You're right. All of it. But I'd rather admit she's dead than try to validate whatever... whatever I feel." His head fell to his hand and he laughed, bitter, broken, beaten.

"Claude." Her tone was gentle, almost sweet. "Remember how the professor changed you?" His eyes met hers. He looked tired, more tired than Hilda first realized. There were bags under his eyes, the green irises no longer glowing with the youth of their school days. "I know she changed me. She..." Hilda waved her hands in the air, struggling to find the words. "She made me feel like my dreams aren't just dreams. And, I mean," she added quickly, "I don't have big, lofty goals like you. I won't pretend I do. But with the professor, _anything_ is possible. Including her survival.”

”... Hilda.” His head was tilted downwards, verdant eyes not quite meeting hers. “What would you do if I told you I love a dead woman?”

Her breath caught in her throat. 

Small steps. L-o-v-e. Present tense.

”I would tell you you’re a fool.”

”And if I told you that woman yet lived?”

”To be patient.”

Claude sipped his tea with an unsteady hand. “Is five years patient enough?”

”I don’t know,” she said coyly, “we’ll have to wait and see.”

He sighed, lightly, like a great weight was rising from his chest. “She’s in all my schemes. I can’t escape her.”

Hilda nodded. Her own world felt incomplete without Byleth’s woeful nagging. 

“No matter how hard I tell myself she’s not coming back, I can’t believe it.”

“Because she is.” The reply was simple, but it had a rippling effect. 

He smiled, truly, and she felt her heart warm. Oh, how she loved a Genuine Claude Smile. The sight was so rare but its flavor so sweet.

”The Millennium Festival is coming up soon, apparently.” He spoke casually, like it was a passing rumor, like everyone in the class hadn’t been watching their calendars like hawks for the day.

They both knew the importance of the Festival. It was the ultimate moment, really. It was the only set date where they knew they could see Byleth again.

”It sounds like it’ll be fun. I’ve heard there’s a lot of bandits at the monastery, though.”

”I trust you’ll help me clear it out?”

Hilda giggled innocently. “Me, pick up the old axe again?” 

She’d been training daily for years.

”For one day, my lady.” He replied with a flourish, grabbing a forget me not from the vase and handing it to her. 

“I trust you’ll be there as well?” Taking on a posh, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester-like voice, she declared, “You _must_ see that woman you love after all, right?” She took the flower dramatically, pointing it at him.

Claude chuckled at that. “In a manner of speaking. I wouldn’t call her that, not yet anyway. And definitely not to her face.”

She tapped her head knowingly, like a wise old fortune teller. ”In due time, dear friend. In due time.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is kinda rushed and I haven’t edited it but it’s Fine.
> 
> I really gotta write more Hilda.


End file.
